How to Save Your Bowtruckle
by HecateA
Summary: Did James Potter care much about bowtruckles before meeting one who'd been injured by dark magic on school grounds? No. Did Lily Evans ever think that James would work this hard to help her save a life? Also no. Oneshot. MC4 submission.


**Author's Note: **Time to get _sappy _with a plot bunny that was nearly a Christmas present and has been kicking around my computer since. Enjoy! Additionally: this AN was edited to account for the fact that this won't count as a Spring Bingo submission on account of me busting the word count limit _hard, _so alas.

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **Dark-magic related gore and animal cruelty. Grief. Alludes to the death of minor characters not seen in the books.

* * *

**Stacked with: **MC4, Spring Bingo, Fem Power Challenge

**Individual Challenge(s): **Gryffindor MC (x2); Hufflepuff MC; Fall Leaves; Winter Wonderland; Ethnic & Present (Y); Brush; Small Book (Y); The 3rd rule; Seeds; Mechanical Pencil

**Representation(s): **Romani James Potter, Pomona Sprout and Minerva McGonagall

**Bonus challenge(s): **Persistence Still; White Dress; Spinning Plates; Corvid Brain; Machismo; Hot Stuff; Sailor Delight; Bast's Blessing

**Word Count: **7633

* * *

**_Shipping Wars_**

**Ship (Team): **Lily Evans and James Potter (Patronus Pair)

**List (Prompt): **Big List (Stroll)

* * *

**How to Save Your Bowtruckle **

_ "__May I touch every leaf?" he said to his father, the Frost King._

_"__No," said the Frost King, "the trees which were kind to the bird with the broken wing may keep their leaves."_

_So North Wind had to leave them alone, and the spruce, the pine, and the juniper-tree kept their leaves through all the winter. And they have done so ever since._

-"Why the Evergreen Trees Keep their Leaves in Winter" by Sara Cone Bryant

* * *

James wouldn't go so far as to say that he'd been minding his own goddamn business when it happened, but he definitely wasn't out _looking _for trouble. Sirius, Remus, and Peter would have been close by if he had.

He had dropped something during the last Full Moon and was desperate to find it again before the next snowfall. He would love to retrace his steps but recalling the exact movements of a ragtag band of supernatural mammals wasn't so much of an exact science as a question of crossed fingers and muttering under his breath.

Students were enjoying the last day before winter break by skating across the Dark Lake, making snow angels, building campfires in the snow to roast sausages and marshmallows, and have someplace warm to exchange Solstice stories. Delighted fifth-year students were charming a snowman to walk and dance. A six-legged horse with a chocolate brown coat was tied down near Hagrid's hut, and a trio of Hufflepuffs were feeding it apples and carrots, laughing as its tongue tickled their palms.

James was pacing along the edge of the Forbidden Forest when he heard the screams and a gaggle of young Slytherin girls stumbled out of the woods.

"What's going on?" James asked, wand drawn. "Are you okay?"

"They're in the trees," one of the girls cried. "They're in the trees, they're doing things with- with- it's dark magic, it has to be."

"Something with—with kittens," another said. "Professor Ollara's cat just had a litter. They had the same m-markings."

James' blood ran cold. A stampede of footsteps revealed behind him announced that the older students had come to investigate.

"Someone go fetch a professor," he heard Lily Evans call, somewhere behind him. She had been summoning poinsettias and pine saplings with the gaggle of first-years she tutored in charms, but her energy had shifted quickly to deal with the situation. "Tell them to bring Dumbledore."

He nodded his approval and took a step forward.

"James Potter, are you mad?" Lily hissed. "Don't go in there."

"Lumos," he said.

_"__James." _

"Head back to the castle, especially if you're Muggle-born," James told the crowd of students. "Just to be safe."

Lily looked at him defiantly. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was two years older, and Nicolette Atkinson, the Head Girl, both drew their wands.

"Let's go," Kingsley said nudging his head towards the forest.

Lily walked alongside them.

It didn't take long for them to find what the girls had seen. James noticed the fallen tree first; it was one of the oldest oaks in the forest, he'd seen it under the Full Moon a hundred times. Seeing it hacked down was jarring and wrong—but someone had taken an axe to it. They'd left their hatchet in the snow along with three furry bundles and a mess of runes and circles drawn in what James could only assume to be blood.

"What a mess…" Nicolette whispered.

Lily was the first to approach the site.

"_Vitamula," _she whispered. A jet of light sprung from her wand and scanned the area but found no trace of life other than the four of them.

"Whoever did this had enough sense to erase their footsteps," James said. "Evans, don't get too close..."

"I'm fine, Potter," she said again. She pulled off her mittens and knelt at the basis of the oak tree and picked up something that had fallen into the snow. Wand poised between two fingers, she cupped it in her hands.

"It's a bowtruckle," she said. "There's a dozen of them, littered in the snow... They must've fallen out."

Just then, a delegation of coatless and out of breath professors burst into the clearing.

"By Merlin," Slughorn said.

"We don't know what happened, professor," Kingsley said. "Whoever did this was gone when we got here."

"I think they were trying to use blood magic," Lily said. "That's what those runes translate to."

"Perceptive as always, Miss Evans," Professor Dumbledore said looking at the clearings. "But this is no place for the four of you. Madam Pomfrey will be more than happy to meet you with cider in the infirmary."

This was his way of quietly dismissing them, however Lily made no move to leave. She stood at the base of the fallen oak with her head cocked to the side, reading the bloody runes at her feet. Her face was blank.

"Lily," Professor Dumbledore said gently.

"I think I'm reading this right professor," she said gravely. "They would have used Muggle blood if they had access to it, wouldn't they? They settled for animal because they thought it was close enough."

James felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight.

"I see Professor Carstairs makes no exaggeration when she calls you a particularly sharp translator," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you could come to my office later tonight, for a cup of tea and a look at the advanced copy of Gallagher's Runic Encyclopaedia that an old friend has so kindly lent me."

"Yes professor," Lily said.

"Straight to Gryffindor tower after you've checked in with Madam Pomfrey, you two," McGonagall said less gently.

When they reached the edge of the wood, they realised that the rest of the students galivanting across the Winter wonderland had been corralled back to the castle.

James hung back to try and match Lily's pace. Judging by how troubled she looked, she must be thinking what he was thinking: Death Eaters. Well, not real ones, but aspiring ones at least.

"Evans?" he said. "Evans, I'm sorry."

Lily didn't say anything.

"Are you okay? Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

"James, I just don't want to cry in front of you, so leave me alone and shut up," she said with a crack in her voice.

That's when he noticed the way she was holding her hands.

"You still have the bowtruckle," he said.

"I've had enough," Lily said. "I've had enough of… of people misusing their magic and doing these things and of things dying because of it for no good reason. It's just not _necessary_, it's not right. We shouldn't be making more pain in the world. And he was the last one, he was all alone…"

"Hey," he said quietly. "Hey, Evans, hey..."

He put his hands on her shoulders and at first, he thought she was going to push him away but she just looked up. Her green eyes sparkled, and the tears looked angry. If there was one thing Hogwarts was good at circulating, it was gossip: and the school did so shamelessly. Students, professors, ghosts, portraits… They all had their part to play in this little cycle. James even thought that the castle itself participated; sometimes he found himself on a staircase just as it was about to move and realign itself with someone who had a fresh piece of gossip to impart, every now and then.

James didn't know who had first found out that Lily Evans' family home had been hit by a party of Death Eaters last Spring, but he knew it must be true. Evans had spent the Summer boarding at Hogsmeade, helping Slughorn with his experimental work during the day and waiting tables for Madam Rosmerta by night. Now, James had it on good authority (that authority being Remus) that she was staying at the castle for Christmas. There had been something different about Evans this term, something quiet and soft that occasionally reared up on its hind legs and roared and demanded to know what had been written in blood on the snow, or that growled and refused to let a small green creature die.

Bowtruckles were small, fragile little things. James had never known someone to cry over them, not out of malice, but in the same way that nobody watched for aunts when they walked. But Lily's words came back to him: _They would have used Muggle blood if they had access to it, wouldn't they? They settled for animal because they thought it was close enough_. Those were the words of someone who had seen how slippery of a slope stratifying the value of life was.

"Who said anything about anyone dying?" James said. "Come on."

* * *

After looking for Professor Kettleburn and finding out that he'd left the castle early for a Yeti-hunting expedition, they hit the library. Evans had pulled books from the shelves with an admirable speed and familiarity and set up shop at one of the tables in the Care of Magical Creatures section as if it was her own personal war room.

They had made a bed with James' red and gold scarf and slipped the bowtruckle in Lily's mitten like a sleeping bag. He was in bad shape; both of his twiggy legs had snapped when the oak had fallen, as well as most of its long, root-like fingers. The two leaves springing from the top of its heads looked withered, and its eyes looked even smaller than they should be, according to the textbook on bowtruckle anatomy open on the table.

Still, he was maintaining his green colour—which, according to their research, was a positive sign. Thankfully, Newt Scamander had recently published a treaty on bowtruckle health. As they poured over it, Lily was copying the details in a little Muggle notebook with some writing instrument she somehow didn't need to draw ink for. James wasn't sure how the ink _glittered _either.

"It's not that bowtruckles can't live away from their tree," Lily said, summarizing what she'd read. "It's just that this little guy's oak tree _fell._ I suppose that means bowtruckles get their life energies from their trees, the same way that those trees rely on the sun in turn… This little one's been linked to the oak since it was a baby."

"Right," James said. "So, unless we address that, no amount of adapted Pepperup potion or healing charms will help. What this little guy needs is a new tree."

"I don't know how on Earth we can do that," Lily said. She looked at the bowtruckle and chewed her lip.

James went back to the herbology textbook he was reading, one that specialised in the care and maintenance of trees that provided wand wood—and a word caught his eye and kickstarted a new train of thought.

"What about a regerminating potion?" James blurted.

"James, I don't think we can heal the tree," Lily said. "Even if there was a way to replant a fallen tree, the wounds caused by dark magic are... are harder to heal."

"I know," he said, his heart beating more quickly in his chest as the idea took off. Now that he'd found something to hold onto, his brain was running at a million miles an hour. "But it wouldn't be for the tree- it would be for the bowtruckle himself."

Lily frowned and James could basically see her go through her mental index of potions and spells to try and make sense of it.

"Tilden Toots' potion?" Lily checked. "The one that forces a plant to germinate?"

"We'd have to modify it," James said. "But what if we could? Think about it, Evans. Bowtruckles develop their bond with the tree on which they are born, yes? That's what Scamander said?"

"Yes," Lily said. "And so... and so if we were to—to help the bowtruckle 'regerminate' on a new tree... It would possibly form a new attachment. We would have to modify the potion—account for the differences in bowtruckle anatomy, do some balancing at the microlevel of the ingredients..."

"But it could work," James said.

"It could work," she agreed. Eyes bright, like when she and Remus talked charms theory in the common room, she flipped through Scamander's treaty. "There was a potion he recommended, somewhere around page twenty-six, that he administered to his own bowtruckle colony when they lacked exposure to the sun. I recognised most of the ingredients, it is itself an adaptation from another potion used by herbologists... If we can compare them, we can create a baseline applicable to Toots' potion to equilibrate our new…"

James wasn't sure he was keeping up, but she pushed away the book in front of her, flipped to a new page in her notebook, and ran one finger up and down the bowtruckle's muffled body. "We think we have it, little one. Just hang on for us."

* * *

When they were walking through the castle without a stack of books between them, James couldn't help but feel the discomfort that hung between them. Evans didn't like him. James' own thoughts on the subject didn't matter at this point, given just how _passionately _Evans hated him—it was strong enough to overpower anything at all. But still; on this, they were working together. They had to, for this little one's sake. James couldn't help but feel a little bit maternal about the whole thing; somehow, they'd adopted a bowtruckle.

They knocked on the greenhouse's door, and Professor Sprout answered looking cheerful as ever, dirt on her cheek and smile on her face.

"Lily! James! Perfect timing! The Christmas Tulipadills are just blooming, they are _lovely _to behold…"

"We actually have a different question, Professor," Lily said. "May we come in?"

The greenhouse was so full of colour compared to the wintery landscape outside. The long table in the centre of the greenhouse was covered with seedlings waiting to be transplanted, piles of soil, various sizes of gardening sheers, and an uprooted tree that was waiting to be planted. A small section of the table had been dusted off for Minerva McGonagall to sit, sipping out of a teacup.

"Professor?" James asked.

"Indeed, Mr Potter," she said.

"What are you... that doesn't matter," James said, shaking his head. "Professor Sprout, we need help with something."

Lily gave her the run-down of the situation and laid out their plan for nursing the bowtruckle back to health. Professor Sprout examined the bowtruckle nested in Lily's hands as she nodded along.

"The logic is sound to me," Professor Sprout said.

Lily turned to James; eyes bright. He nodded encouragingly.

"We were hoping you might have any regerminating potion on hand," James said.

"I'm afraid I don't," Professor Sprout said. "I used the last of my batch on the Willowing Turnips."

Lily sighed and looked to James again. "I don't think it's a very complicated potion to brew."

"No, it isn't," Professor Sprout said. "And according to what Professor Slughorn has to say, it surely won't be beyond the capabilities of two excellent potion makers such as yourselves."

"Right," Lily said. "Right…"

"Could you help us with finding a new home for Sapwood, then?" James asked.

"Who, James?" Professor Sprout frowned.

"Sapwood," James said. He suddenly felt several pairs of eyes on him. "What? We've got to name the bowtruckle, if we want him to want a reason to stay."

Lily nodded absent-mindedly at this.

"I'm just assuming that two respectable professors such as yourselves wouldn't want us roaming the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night, looking for a new tree to bond a bowtruckle too…" James said.

"Your keen sense of perception will never cease to amaze, Mr Potter," McGonagall said.

"But yes, we can certainly do that," Professor Sprout said. "And if your little friend gets worst or if you need anything at all, please come find us."

Once they left the greenhouse, Lily turned to him with a clear action plan.

"I'll go back to the dormitory to fetch my cauldron and potion kit. Professor Slughorn gave me a key to Potion Laboratory C, for the work I do with him. It's quiet and out of Filch's way and should serve our purposes. This is going to be a long night."

Though he wasn't opposed to it in any way, James Potter had ever thought that he would hear these words coming out of Lily Evans' lips.

* * *

"You're late," Lily told him.

"Yes, but for a good reason," James said. He had stopped by the kitchens and had a chat with the house elves. They were always happy to see James, probably because they were happy to see anybody, and had been happy to prepare the carafe of coffee he had asked for, and had even wrapped up plates of turkey sandwiches and Christmas dainties.

"We studied through dinner," James said.

He wondered if the fact that he'd demonstrated forethought and preparation skills was physically painful to her. She drew the key to the laboratory from a chain hidden underneath her sweater, unlocking the door.

"We can set up there," Lily said nodding her head towards what used to be the professor's desk.

James drew his wand and pointed it to the empty fireplace. _"Incendio." _

He put his bag of provisions on the closest table and drew out a hot water bottle the Marauders had "borrowed" from Madam Pomfrey ages ago, to help Remus with the aches and pains of the lunar cycle. He'd filled it up on his way down and had also borrowed a variety of scarves and mittens that had been laying around the dorm. They fashioned quite a nest for Sapwood, and when Lily laid him down he cooed. She smiled.

"It's like he knows we're trying to help," she said. Then she shook her head, as if chiding herself for the thought, and sat down to puzzle out the final potion.

"Come here," Lily said. "This is delicate. It'll be easier if there are two of us working on it."

James wondered if she'd let him use her sparkly quill.

* * *

Lily's arithmetic's were a lot better than his, and she managed to write out the potion's chemical and magical formulations much more quickly than he ever could have. When it came time to tweaking, he was quite quick at spotting the conversion and equilibration errors. He suggested that they should replace popanitty with knotgrass, and after a moment Lily nodded and crossed out part of her work.

"We'll need less tiger root then," she said.

"Right," James nodded.

They poured over the potion and the ingredient list and the order of the ingredients and the chemical validity of it all for what felt like hours before Lily nodded.

"I think this is it," she said.

They had twenty-three ingredients, and about half as many steps to follow.

"I can call someone to double-check," James said. "Hold on…"

He went up to the fireplace—a bowl of Floo powder rested on the mantle. He threw in a handful and called out 'Potter Estate' before plunging his head in. He blinked around at the familiar living room; thankfully his father was sitting on the couch.

"Tati," he called out. His father spun around, and his face lit up as he approached the fireplace.

"James!" his father said, delighted. "James, how lovely! Euphemia—Euphemia, come!"

"No, no," James said. "Tati, I'm sorry, don't call Mama, I don't have time to talk! I just have to ask you a quick question…"

He ran the basic potion by his father. Fleamont Potter put a finger to his mouth as he listened and nodded thoroughly at the end.

"That sounds like a stable potion to me, though you know how it is James…"

"Always more difficult in practise than by pen," James recited.

"Good boy. Did you write that recipe yourself?"

"No, I'm with a… school friend."

"She must be rather clever, no?"

"She's brilliant," James said. "Listen, Tati, I have to go. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Back in the laboratory, Lily had transcribed their recipe on the board in small, careful handwriting and checked off the ingredients they had in their potion kits already. Belladonna, ginger ivy, poppy stems, sage weed, peppermint…

"Good news," James said. "It looks like we're on a good start—that list should be good."

"Brilliant. I know Professor Slughorn has elderkelp in the cabinet," Lily said. "Dittany is such a common healing ingredient, I'm sure it'll be around here too..."

"Pass me the key?" James said. She slid the necklace over her head and tossed it to him. He noticed that alongside the laboratory key were strung two wedding bands. Muggle, by the look of them and their stones…

He didn't mention it as they raided Slughorn's cupboards.

"Sixteen ingredients left," she said.

"How long did Scamander say a bowtruckle could live without its tree?" James asked.

"About twelve hours," Lily said.

"Twelve hours is plenty of time," James said, reassuringly. "What do you think will be the hardest to find?"

"Goldweed," Lily said immediately, pointing to it. "We need such a small quantity, but it's... well, it's not that it's rare, but difficult to make. A wizard has to spread flakes of gold or gold dust over a patch of weeds for an entire month to produce it."

"Say no more," James said. "I know where we can get some."

* * *

"Who were you talking to?" Lily asked as they walked down the hall.

"My father," James said. "He's a—"

"Potion maker," Lily said. "Fleamont Potter. I know."

"Yeah," James said. She had wound Sirius' scarf around her neck, creating a little pocket for Sapwood to travel in, bundled up and close to her chest. There was something very marsupial about it. Maybe something maternal too. James probably shouldn't express to her that he had confused these two things.

"What language were you speaking?" Lily asked. "It was beautiful."

"Romani," James said. "My father never went to school, but that's where he got all his potion knowledge from—traditional knowledge, passed down, that he perfected when he was traveling and living here and there and meeting all kinds of people. He always said that it was a hard life, which just meant he had to turn it into something bigger."

"I didn't know."

"We don't talk about it much," James said. "Some prejudice carries over from the Muggle world, you know?"

They reached Professor Slughorn's office, and their knock was quickly answered by a red-cheeked Slughorn wrapped in a silk robe.

"Mr Potter?" Slughorn asked.

"Evening, Professor," James said. "Lovely robe, really brings out your eyes quite nicely."

"What appears to be the matter, Mr Potter? Lily, is that you?"

"Good evening, Professor," Lily said.

"Professor, remember that time in class where you challenged us to recreate a potion by smell, sight, and taste alone?" James asked. "And you said that you would give whoever came closest the potion ingredient of their choice, right out of your cupboard?"

"Why… why yes, James. I do. But I must say, I barely expected you to reap your reward at a time like this."

"I was waiting to be inspired," James said.

"I see," Slughorn said. "Well, this must be a very special ingredient, then."

"It is," James said. To butter up the potion master he added, "So special, that Lily and I weren't even sure if you would have it."

"Now, now, James," Slughorn said, teasingly waving a finger. "You know better than to test me and my collection! What is it?"

"Goldweed, sir."

Slughorn looked at them for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Well played, young man, well played," Slughorn said. "Come in, come in! Albus, you'll never guess who we have here..."

James and Lily exchanged a quick glance, but they couldn't turn away now.

Slughorn's apartments were exactly what James would have expected: comfortable and warm, the walls covered with autographed pictures of star pupils, bowls of bonbons strategically placed across the room, a luxurious wine cabinet...

Dumbledore sat in one of the armchairs with a glass of firewhisky.

"Good evening Mr Potter," he said. "Ms. Evans."

"Professor Dumbledore," they both said respectfully.

"I don't know if you're aware Albus, but Mr Potter is a very accomplished potion maker," Slughorn said. "You must get that from your father, James. And what did you tag along for Lily? Curious to see what our winner here would pick?"

"I think I might have beaten James had I been in class that day, sir," Lily told him.

Slughorn laughed heartily.

"A rematch!" he said. "Well, wouldn't that be something... Yes, I would quite like to put you two in a room with Severus Snape and maybe even Aisling Murdoch and see what comes of it."

James had some thoughts on how _that _would turn out but held his tongue while Slughorn rummaged through his cabinets and chattered away to fill in Dumbledore, "Here," Slughorn said, retrieving what looked like a tea sachet form his cabinet. He held it towards James. "Now, goldweed is one of Ivanoff's Unincorporable Ingredients. What does this mean?"

"It means it shouldn't be left in a potion, it should only steep," Lily said.

"Very good," Slughorn said. Then he gave the sachet to James. "I'm curious to see what you'll use this for, Mr Potter."

"Me too," James said. "It'll be something important."

"We better go," Lily said. "Before curfew comes around."

"Right. Well, thanks Professor."

"Thank you," Lily said quietly. As they ducked out, James heard Dumbledore asking Slughorn if Lily and James were an item or not. Lily blushed (violently, given the red-headedness) and walked faster. James sped up to keep up.

* * *

"Here's those shredded Yggdrasill roots," James said passing her a cutting board. Lily looked up from the cauldron, where she was carefully monitoring the amount of dissolution of several spotted oak leaves. She took it from him and set it next to the other ingredients before turning back to their potion. It smelled like freshly cut grass now, which James thought was appropriate and hopefully a good sign.

"I can take over," James offered.

Lily bit her lip, but then nodded. She stepped away from the cauldron and wiped the sweat off her forehead. She inspected the shredded roots before, apparently assessing that James had done an adequate job because she walked to the other end of the laboratory, running a hand through her hair tiredly.

"I'm sorry that that happened today," James said. "That you had to see that, in the forest."

"It's okay," Lily said.

"No, it really isn't…"

"Well then _I'm _okay," Lily said. "I'm alright. I feel… I feel like I've already seen the worse in everything, and… It doesn't matter. What matters now is Sapwood."

She was quiet for some time, playing with the rings around her neck.

"You know, I think of my Dad whenever I'm in potions—cutting things up, dicing them, mixing, folding, shaking, measuring, stirring, boiling… He used to do all the cooking at home, and he did say that mine improved once I started taking Slughorn's classes. I even managed to make a cheesecake on my first try last summer, he couldn't believe it. We ate the whole thing in one siting to celebrate, before my mum and my sister and her husband even got home."

She smiled and it looked like she might say more. But then she didn't.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your family," James said.

Lily took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes. She tried to hide from him, ttaking out the mysterious glitter-ink receptacle to make a note in the notebook, but she did eventually turn back to him.

"Please don't… please don't tell anyone about them," Lily said. "Muggles are dying every day with You-Know-Who rising. That needs to be taken seriously, it can't just be stories witches and wizards and wix tell each other."

"You're right," James said. "And I promise."

* * *

The next part was a bit trickier and James… couldn't really believe that Evans was allowing it, actually. Maybe she was too fascinated by the invisibility cloak they were hiding under to really clue into the fact that it was breaking and entering. Maybe Sapwood's fading colour was alarming her—the were giving the bowtruckle sugar water aplenty, but he was very obviously missing his tree.

"Got it," James said, finally picking open the door of Slughorn's storage room. The lights turned on automatically.

"I'm surprised you didn't just use magic," Lily said. "Most purebloods would."

"My parents put magical locks all over the house when I was a kid to try and keep me contained. I had to get creative very quickly," James admitted sheepishly.

To his surprise, Lily laughed.

* * *

"I don't _care _if the Forbidden Forest is one of the best places to harvest knotgrass in the world, you are _not _going," Lily said.

"Are you mad? Why are you following me here—Sapwood will catch his death in this weather!" James said. It was nearing 3:00 AM, and James could feel the fatigue and irritation radiating both of them.

"Well shut the door then, I'm sure Sapwood would quite agree," Lily said.

"Look, Slughorn's stock of knotgrass is rotten Evans, we don't have many other options other than to go pick some more, do we?"

"There was blood magic in the forest only hours ago and you expect me to let you go out there?"

"And here I was not knowing that you cared, Evans."

"I won't have you gutted like one of those cats," Lily said.

James realised he'd hit a sore spot he shouldn't have.

"I'm sorry. But look, Evans, I've got a way at getting around the forest safely. I'm promise."

"That fat head of yours can't possibly repulse _every _bloodthirsty creature that's in there."

"If anything, it makes me a much juicier target."

"I am very serious!" Lily said.

"And I'm James."

Lily rolled her eyes.

"Okay, look," James said. "Let me… I have to step outside because I need space to show you how I'm going to do this, but I promise it'll be convincing."

Lily bit her lip. James was nervous too. He could hear Remus, Peter, and Sirius shouting in the back of his head about how _poor _of an idea this was—but he had to go out there, didn't he?

She stood in the door, her hands sheltering Sapwood, and watched as he stepped outside. He took a running start and transformed into his Animagus shape, landing on four hooves. It was winter, meaning that the stag didn't have its usual woods. He still felt sharper, stronger, more grounded, and even a little regal.

Lily's jaw dropped, but she did close the door behind him. He took that as her blessing, and to her credit, she was still waiting for him when he returned from his excursion, pockets full of knotgrass.

"Look," James said when he returned. "I shouldn't have done that in front of you. The other boys can never know, nobody can, but we were running out of time for Sapwood. Can you please not tell anyone about this?"

Lily frowned. "For someone who talks so much and so loudly James Potter, there's a lot that you don't say."

"You haven't hit any of the good secrets, yet," James said.

Lily rolled her eyes, and they walked back to the laboratory.

"He's beautiful, by the way," she said.

"What?" James asked.

"The stag," Lily said.

James grinned.

* * *

Lily checked off an ingredient on the blackboard, and then made for another note in her book.

"Is there unicorn blood in it?" James asked.

"Unicorn blood where?" Lily asked.

"In your… well, I assume it must be a Muggle quill of some sort…"

Lily looked at the object in her hands and burst out laughing—a genuine, happy laugh.

"Unicorn blood…" she repeated. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh. There's no way for you to know this, really. They're called pens. Muggles use them. These are gel pens, I just think they're fun."

"Gel pens," James repeated. "So how do they get the sparkling to..?"

"Can't tell you," Lily said. "Muggle secrets. Just remind me to show you my scented markers later."

* * *

"Can I show you something?" James asked.

Lily looked up from the turtle vine whose leaves she was dicing.

"What is it?" Lily asked.

"I mean—you're amazing at potions Evans, don't get me wrong," James said. "But watching you dice all those little leaves is a bit painful."

"I suppose you have a better way," Lily said.

"Yeah, actually," James said. "Can I show you?"

Lily frowned but nodded. James moved to her side of the table and put his hand over her knife, sliding her fingers around to correct her grip.

"I know it's not how you'd usually hold it, but when you're dicing such a huge quantity, this'll help," James said. "And then you want to bring the knife down like this…"

He didn't even register what he was doing and how badly he might get _smacked _for it on any other day, if a bowtruckle wasn't dying, but he moved behind her and guided her movements.

"Hmm," Lily mused. "Interesting."

"I mean, you'd rarely ever have to deal with such a huge quantity, this is really a weird potion," James said. "But you pick up some son when you're a potioner's son."

"Well thank you for sharing," Lily said. She smiled, and James felt his heart skip a beat.

* * *

There was a lull in their night. Lily was sitting cross-legged on the table, stroking the bowtruckle's tiny body, and James sat on the chair before their cauldron. For now, all they had to do was let it simmer.

"For the record, I know that bowtruckles are small and fragile and they don't live long," Lily said. "I saw McGonagall and Sprout's face when we told them about this, and I know that Kettleburn would have just told us to put Sapwood out of his misery if he'd been around. I know, but I just… Every time a dark wizard doesn't get what they want, it's a little victory. It doesn't fix the great losses, but I feel like it helps us all stay in motion. I'm sure that's not what you wanted to do with your last night of the term, but I appreciate that you're here."

James turned to her, a little surprised, and scratched the top of his head.

"I like that you're fighting for him," James said. "It's important, he's not too small to be worth it, not at all. If we can save him, we should."

"I like that you care," Lily said.

They went back to their comfortable, sleepy quiet after that.

* * *

It was nearly dawn by the time their potion was finally ready. Their food had disappeared, their coffee had actually been replenished thrice, and the cauldron was now a pleasant emerald green colour that glistened just like the gems in Slytherin's hourglass.

"I think it's ready," Lily said. She'd put her head up sometime after midnight, holding her bun up with one of those gel pens.

They'd kept an eye on Sapwood who was… doing poorly. Very poorly. He seemed to be withering and browning as the night went by, no matter how warm they kept him and how much sugar water they dabbed at the corners of his little mouth.

"Nearly there," James whispered to him. "Nearly there."

"You're very nurturing," Lily told him, quietly. "I knew you took good care of your Quidditch team, but I wouldn't have expected that from you."

James grinned. "I can cook too, Evans. Some might go so far as to call me a complete package."

"Some might be exaggerating," Lily said. But she teased him with a smile.

Since time was of the essence, they left the laboratory a mess for now and made their way to the teacher's lounge. Sprout and McGonagall were sitting on the couch, leaning against one another as they slept.

"Professors," Lily said quietly. A little bit louder; "Professors…"

James kicked down a chair, which Lily didn't approve of though it did the trick. Both professors were up on their feet and straightening out their robes within seconds.

"Mr Potter and Ms. Evans," McGonagall said. "I presume that you wake us with some good news?"

"We've got it," Lily said with a wide smile despite how small and tired her eyes looked. "Did you have a chance to find a tree for him?"

"We did!" Professor Sprout said cheerfully. She held out her hand and her coat flew up to her. "Come; let us show you the way."

* * *

Their walk to Sapwood's new home was slow and awkward. They went off the beaten track, and Lily was sinking to her knees in the snow. Instinctively, James reached out to take her arm to help.

"Sorry," he said. "I just—didn't want Sapwood to fall…"

Lily nodded and let him help her along the way.

James couldn't help but feel that Winter sunrises were unique. The sun rose later in the morning than it did any other season, in the freezing cold, and against a barren white landscape which made its orange light especially striking.

James' breath was puffing up in the air as he went, and Lily was stepping carefully, making sure that Sapwood was secure and warm and comfortable. Still, even if they were walking only a few feet behind Sprout and McGonagall, James couldn't help but feel that, after all the time they'd spent together tonight, they were the only two people in the world.

Their professors had found a mighty tree close enough to the castle that there wouldn't be any funny business there, but far enough that Sapwood wouldn't be disturbed. James couldn't quite identify the species on account of the missing leaves, but he thought it might be an ash.

Lily looked up towards the tree's sprawling branches, her hair absolutely shining under the dawn light. She looked over to the two professors.

"Go on dear, this is your plan," Professor Sprout said encouragingly.

Lily still looked nervous, and so James stepped forwards and cleared the snow off of one of the tree's roots.

"Here," he said. "Let's lay him down here, against the tree..."

They knelt under the ash. Sapwood shivered when they lay him onto the ground, and James had to admit that it broke his heart a little bit.

"I'm sorry, it's only for a little bit," Lily whispered, kneeling on the ground. She pulled off her mittens and reached into her coat, drawing out the vial containing their potion. She unscrewed the lid, fished an eye dropper out of her pocket, and carefully pumped a few drops of their elixir into the bowtruckle's tiny mouth. She poured the rest at the tree's base.

James barely remembered to breathe as they waited for something to happen. And then, all of a sudden, Sapwood sunk his spindly fingers into the ground. A leafy green tinge shot up through his little body. The tree before them seemed to hum with life for an instant—it would have been so easy to miss, but James swore it was real.

Sapwood drew himself up and looked at Lily and James for a moment before scampering up the tree. Lily burst out laughing.

"It worked!" she said looking up to him. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked, you're brilliant!"

"_We're _brilliant!" Lily said with a smile. James' heart skipped a beat when she said _we. _He liked _we, _he liked the idea that they could do things together, good things, and that they worked well. He was smiling about more than just the bowtruckle's recovery as he pulled her up from the ground. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back, awkwardly.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

James was trying to think of something to reply that was both intelligent and not-obnoxious when he felt something drop from the sky and land on his head. Lily grinned and reached up to pick up Sapwood, who had hopped back down to visit.

"Oh," James said. "So now that you can get around alright, you're the jealous type?"

Lily laughed again, and James swore that he would never get used to how beautiful that sound was.

* * *

"Do you know one thing that I still don't understand, Pomona?" Minerva said, as they walked back to the castle hand in hand.

"I'm sure there are many things."

"Don't be coy," Minerva said, bumping her hip against the other woman's. "I remain uncertain as to why you lied to two of our students about your stock of regerminating potion being depleted. Horace delivered a fresh batch to you yesterday, I was there."

"Oh, I remember," Pomona said. "I slipped that little bowtruckly a good dose of pure fertilizing elixir so that he would be more than fine until morning and started modifying my own batch of potion for him. But I just wanted to see what would happen if I sent out those two on their little task. Interesting results, no?"

For a second Minerva froze, and looked at the other witch, shaking her head. What a good time to be with Pomona, and what a good time to also have ten galleons in Flitwick's betting pool on their two star students.

"You hopeless romantic," she said running her fingers through Pomona's messy curls.

"Well I do believe one of us has to be," she said. "And now I supposed we know that James Potter and Lily Evans are too."

* * *

They stood together in front of the oldest tree outside of Godric's Hollow which was decorated with strings of lights and ribbons. The wedding was so small that there was no seating, just a cluster of people standing around the tree, feet crushing the carpet of fallen leaves that the old oak had shed. They felt incongruous, given how warm and pleasant the day had turned out. Every now and then, the leaves crunched under someone's feet as they shifted in place, but James was only vaguely aware of the crowd. He only had eyes from Lily in her white dress, an old lace shawl draped over her shoulders, and flowers in her hair.

"By the power invested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I declare you lawfully wedded," the officiant —and old family friend—said. "You may share your first kiss as a couple."

When they did, the crowd around them burst into cheers. Wands pointed upwards and spouted sparks. A camera went off. Mr and Mrs Potter linked arms and whispered about how grown up these children were. The bridal party huddled together tightly, and Sirius made an announcement that if everybody could please follow the golden leaves on the ground, refreshments would be served in the Potter's tiny little house while pictures were taken outside.

There was plenty of champagne and firewhisky, and a few canapés left for grabs. Conversation, lawn games, and an enchanted game of giant chess in their backyard was keeping everybody occupied. Dinner was a quiet affair.

When night fell, the tent they sat under expanded to form a larger dance floor, surrounded by strings of light, just as other guests and revellers started trickling in. They had tried to keep the wedding small, given the circumstances, but had known that there was going to be no such thing. They hadn't attempted to fight the influx of revellers too much: people needed good news, good company, and a good time now more than never. News was trickling out and witches and wizards were apparating to Godric's Hollow and coming in for a drink (or five) and a dance.

"Hey," James said after her favourite song had played. "Do you want to get some air?"

"Yes," Lily nodded. "But how on Earth are you planning on getting away?"

"Sirius is due to cause a distraction just about…"

"MINERVA," Sirius yelled stumbling towards McGonagall, who had been dancing with Sprout. "MINERVA, MY LOVE!"

"There we are," James said. He took Lily's hand and they weaseled away from the party—from their property, actually. James jumped over their garden fence, helping Lily get over in her long dress. He actually scooped her up and carried her over to the tree where they'd been married. Now, a little bench stood underneath.

"Here," James said.

"What's this?" Lily said.

"A wedding present," James said. "This way, you have a place to read. Not too far from the house, but far enough that it'll feel like getting away."

They sat down, Lily on James' lap, an arm looping around his neck. They talked and talked and talked, making fun of Sirius, imagining McGonagall's face, and noting how Peter had _actually _been dancing with Amelia Bones. Lily passed on Aurora's view that their wedding reception was being celebrated under constellations honouring happy stories, and Trelawney's praise that an Equinox wedding was a wonderful idea. James told Lily, again, just how beautiful his mother thought she looked and how much he agreed. Eventually they shifted, so that he was laying with his head on her knees as she brushed her fingers through his hair. She foresaw many quiet, peaceful nights like this one on their bench, under their tree.

That's when Lily felt something tug at the sleeve of her dress and realised that Sapwood had dropped from the tree.

"Hi," she cooed. James held out his hand, and Sapwood used him as a launching pad to jump down to Lily's knee. She offered him a finger which he held onto in a tight bear hug.

"Of course, now we also have a nice place to sit while we visit him," James said.


End file.
